


In Your Arms

by 94BottlesOfSnapple



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [14]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bridal Carrying Your Crush Is a Valid Flirting Technique, Embarrassment, Fluff, Foggy Nelson's Buff Arms, Love Confessions, M/M, Protective Foggy Nelson, Protective Matt Murdock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21541627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple
Summary: Matt sprains his ankle and Foggy insists on carrying him, which is mortifying but illuminating. There's also no way he's going to pass up the chance to return the favor.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Tumblr Ficlets [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419673
Comments: 10
Kudos: 216





	In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be found on tumblr [here](https://pomegranate-belle.tumblr.com/post/188304650330/please-put-me-down-its-just-a-sprained-ankle)

“Please put me down,” Matt says in what he thinks is a very dignified and reasonable tone considering he’s being cradled in Foggy’s arms like a bride and also that beneath their comforting, pillowy softness Foggy’s arms are a lot more firm than he was expecting. “It’s just a sprained ankle.”

“And those bruised ribs that are still healing, and the shiner on your cheek, and your split knuckles, _and_ the stitches on your leg,” counters Foggy. “Face it, Murdock, you’re a mess.”

“I’m fine,” Matt insists, though he knows Foggy never believes him anymore when he says that. “This is embarrassing, Foggy.”

“Get injured less and maybe I won’t cart you around like a princess,” comes the immediate retort.

Matt’s suddenly grateful he’s the only one who can hear heartbeats, because when Foggy finishes climbing the stairs, he shifts Matt’s weight to just one arm without a hint of struggle while he uses the other to open the door to their office. And Matt’s whole body, racing heart included, decides to have a lot of Feelings about that. Though there’s no way to confirm without asking, Matt’s pretty sure he’s gone embarrassingly red.

“Karen, can you get the ice pack?” Foggy calls, settling Matt back into a bridal carry. “Matt tripped on the way in and hurt his ankle.”

“Yeah, sure thing, I—”

Matt knows the instant Karen’s caught sight of them because her sentence cuts off with a slightly strangled squeak that sends her into a coughing fit. She thumps herself on the chest a few times to pull out of it, then asks in a neutral tone that only barely covers up her amusement,

“Comfy, Matt?”

“Very,” he spits. “Tell him to put me down.”

She doesn’t, of course, the traitor. Just grabs the ice pack and helps get it situated on Matt’s ankle while Foggy sits them both down on the couch. To clarify, he sits them both down on the couch _with Matt in his lap_. Because of course he does.

It’s another fifteen mortifying minutes of icing his sprained ankle with one of Foggy’s hands curled gently around his hip to steady him before Matt’s allowed to hobble to his office and pray for the earth to swallow him up in peace.

* * *

Matt gets his revenge soon enough, however. It’s three weeks later that a real honest to God supervillain — tacky outfit and all, according to Jess — attacks New York. He gets his clock cleaned, but there is a decent amount of collateral damage, and a few civilians get caught up in the rumble.

Foggy included, when he rushes out to pull someone’s dog to safety and trips over a piece of rubble trying to get them both back out of harm’s way. Of course in the moment it’s terrifying to have Foggy so close to danger. Matt’s heart nearly stops. But afterwards? When everything’s gone still and peaceful again, and Matt can hear the hiss of pain as Foggy tries to put weight on his right foot? When Matt’s had a chance to peel off a glove and carefully feel Foggy’s ankle for himself, and discovers it’s _not_ a serious injury but it _is_ a sprain?

Nothing on Earth could have stopped Matt from sweeping Foggy into his arms like a blushing bride.

“What are you doing?” Foggy squawks. “You said yourself it’s just a sprain! Put me down!”

But Matt shakes his head and forces his mouth into a solemn expression.

“You’ve been injured, Mr. Nelson. I need to get you some medical care, and letting you walk on that ankle would only make it worse.”

“Ma—” Matt clears his throat pointedly and Foggy corrects himself. “ _Daredevil_. You’re being ridiculous.”

Matt tries to hold on to the serious face as long as he can, but he finds his mouth quirking into a grin anyway.

“Get injured less and maybe I won’t cart you around like a princess, Mr. Nelson,” he replies loftily, cocking an ear towards where the others seem to be wrapping things up — it should be safe to take Foggy for some ice.

“Wh— You— I—!” stammers Foggy, and Matt congratulates himself on stunning his motormouth best friend into silence.

Not that it lasts long. After only a few seconds of quiet, Foggy’s back to complaining. He’s good at it, since it’s one of his hobbies, but it’s not a bother. After a decade, Matt finds the sound of Foggy’s idle grumbling as comforting as an old, worn sweatshirt.

“Where are you even taking me?” Foggy demands when he’s finally worn himself out with complaining.

A devil takes over Matt’s mouth then. Maybe it’s the freedom of being in the suit, the power of it, the comforting feeling of anonymity a mask gives him even when worn with someone who’s seen underneath it.

“I believe the general consensus for this sort of thing is ‘home’ but they don’t call me Daredevil for nothing — if you’d prefer I take you in public I’m perfectly happy to comply, counselor.”

Foggy’s pulse skyrockets, and it takes him a few seconds to catch his breath.

“That— That’s horrible,” he finally chokes out, voice strained as he tries to sound nonchalant — Matt hears through it in a second, though. “You are the _worst_. You’re the absolute— Ugh. You are the Devil.”

Still, Matt’s got Foggy in his arms, so he’s content to play along like this is just a joke between them. Content to let Foggy stay safely in the land of plausible deniability. But not for much longer.

“That’s what they call me,” he agrees cheerfully.

Matt might be a little socially inept, and he might not be great with his own feelings, but he knows Foggy up, down, sideways, and diagonal. Foggy might be touchy-feely, but he doesn’t just pull people into his lap. He might be the kind of person who flirts to cover up his own awkwardness, but he’d meant it all those years ago when he called Matt good-looking. Foggy’s always been at least a little attracted to him, Matt’s sure of it. But he’s beginning to realize there’s something deeper there — something that might be love. And Matt’s willing to take a chance on that.

Matt’s own apartment is the closer one, so it’s where he takes them — Foggy’s always got a spare key on him, which is good since Matt’s are zipped into a pocket somewhere and rummaging around for them would require putting Foggy down. Once they’re inside, Matt tromps over to the fridge and clears his throat.

“I’ve got a couple ice packs in the freezer. Grab one and we’ll get your ankle iced, ok?”

“If you just set me down, you could grab it yourself,” Foggy points out.

“Mm. But I don’t want to set you down,” admits Matt, and it’s— freeing, so freeing to just _say_ something like that, to take the leap and just do it.

Especially when Foggy’s skin flushes hot under Matt’s hands.

“You’re a total rake,” Foggy mutters, pulling open the freezer door and grabbing an ice pack out. “There’s no other word for it.”

“If you say so, Fogs.”

Like Foggy did three weeks ago, Matt settles on the couch with his best friend in his lap. He goes a little farther than Foggy did then, though — not just steadying Foggy but wrapping arms around him in a loose hug and resting his chin on Foggy’s shoulder. It feels good, feels right, but Foggy’s heart beats faster and faster the longer it goes on.

“Ok, enough,” Foggy says suddenly, five minutes in to icing his ankle. “You’ve made your point, Matt, I get it. I embarrassed you last month.”

Matt nods.

“It _was_ embarrassing. But… It’s also something most guy friends wouldn’t do,” he points out. “Even to tease each other.”

Foggy’s heart gives a startled thump.

“Um.”

“There’s a lot of things you do for me that are like that. And maybe on the outside someone would think it’s just you. Because you _are_ friendly, and open, and kind. But these are things you only do with the people you’re dating. And me.”

“Matt, don’t—”

“Because you’re in love with me,” Matt finishes.

There’s silence. A heavy sigh.

“Matt…”

Foggy’s voice breaks. He sounds hurt. Heartbroken, humiliated. This isn’t what Matt wanted, this isn’t how he thought it would go. He pulls Foggy closer when he tries to stand, wraps his arms tighter around him.

“Foggy, don’t— Don’t go. Just. I didn’t mean— It’s. I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you too.”

“Matt, that’s not funny,” Foggy says sharply, covering his pain in a veneer of anger so thin even Matt can see through it.

“I’m not joking!” Matt snaps, then buries his face against the back of Foggy’s neck. “I’m not joking. I’m not. Foggy.”

He tightens his grip, just a little, just briefly — a light squeeze. There’s a quiet sigh, but the rigid tension drops out of Foggy’s frame and he settles more solidly in Matt’s lap. It’s perfect.

They’re going to have to talk about things in a minute. Matt’s going to have to explain himself. It’ll all be worth it in the end, if it gets him Foggy, if they can have each other without any more pretense. But just for a moment, holding Foggy close like this is all Matt needs.


End file.
